


Don't Go

by Delouest



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M, Writing Prompt, whoops I made myself sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delouest/pseuds/Delouest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dorian tells the Inquisitor his plans to return to Tevinter, Mahanon Lavellan finds himself unable to accept the news. </p><p>Inspired by the writing prompt "Don't go."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Go

“Don’t go.”

The words were choked, raw. Dorian looked at Mahanon sadly, taking in the words the elf spoke. “Please don’t go. And I don’t mean it in an I’m afraid you’ll get hurt or don’t think you could make a difference if you went back way. I mean it in that if I lose you, what I’ve done here will mean nothing, because what’s the point if I can’t share it with you? I mean it in a completely selfish, I can’t imagine my life without you way. I mean it in a way I could ever act on, never really mean, because if you did stay, you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with. And I hate myself for even thinking it. The fact that I’m here now saying it… I’m so sorry.” Mahanon looked up with pleading eyes.

Still Dorian said nothing.

“I know you don’t want me to come with you to fix Tevinter’s problems. I know if I come, you think I’ll do it all myself.”

Dorian couldn’t argue. He’d said the words himself. And he’d meant them. The fact that he loved the Inquisitor did not change that.

“But what if,” Mahanon stuttered. “What if I weren’t the Herald? What if I was just a man, too weak to let his lover leave? What if I couldn’t bear to be without you, even if it meant depriving your homeland of you? Would you turn me away then? I don’t want to stop you, I could never do that. But I can’t not try. I have to at least say the words once. The selfish, hollow words.” Mahanon swallowed thickly. “Don’t go.”

It all became too much. Mahanon slipped to the floor, head leaning against Dorian’s legs, gripping the hem of his shirt as he kneeled. Dorian had never felt this before, had never been the one to leave. All his lovers in the past... The faces blurred together. Every one of them abandoned him.

But he knew this was different. This leaving was a different kind of selfish.

“Amatus…” Dorian started. But the sentence had nowhere to go. The affectionate name hung in the air like an apology.

“I hate that I’m putting you in this position. As I say the words, I know it’s wrong,” Mahanon said, muffled against Dorian’s stomach. “I know it’s possibly the worst thing I could say to you, to put all of that that on you.”

Dorian thought back. Being told he was loved so much it hurt was hardly the worst thing someone had told him. _I want to fix you Dorian. Let me fix you._ And then later, when the asking turned to telling, to yelling. _Get out. You are no son of mine._

No, this was a different kind of hurt. A pain brought on from loving too much. A hurt from fear of loss, not fear of what it was. _Is._

It didn’t hurt any less though. It just hurt differently.

Dorian was almost glad for the Inquisitor’s tears. It meant his eyes were cast down, unable to see him as he wiped the back of his hand across his own face. He took a moment to breathe deeply and forced his face to settle back into the calm, confident bravado he so often faked.

They were at a standstill. There was no need to say anything just yet. Corypheus was still a problem. He was not going anywhere yet. But he had no doubt that Mahanon would take care of the breach, just as he took care of everything. It was inevitable. A matter of time, not of if.

So for now they held onto that little bit of time, clutching it like the fabric gripped in Mahanon’s hands, holding too tight out of fear of losing it.

Mahanon pressed his wet face against Dorian’s shirt, tears soaking the fabric. He hugged him tightly before standing and settling himself against the mage’s chest. Hands crept around them both as they wrapped themselves in each other.

Once more, as a whisper, Mahanon pleaded.

“Don’t go.”


End file.
